Flicker
by nahmanjayden
Summary: A small town near the Canadian border. New Inhumans appearing in scores. One detective caught in the middle of it all. (Will mostly be featuring OCs with small cameos from others.)
1. Chapter 1

Ch 1: Dear Crow

 _Drive. Crest. Seven. Rope. Midnight._

There was a house in the middle of the woods. It was an old log cabin with only a single road leading up to the driveway. Outside were two cars, one green and old, one blue and new.

Lights flickered inside, fluorescent and pale. A single bulb swung on a wire as a gust of wind swept through, casting shadows down the rock-covered forms it housed.

Only two remained whole. One stood tall as if expecting the effects of the faint blue mist that hung in the air. The other crouched, clawing at their throat. All around the pair were scattered bits of stone, some in the vague shapes of appendages or features that were once human. Silence dampened the air.

Then, cracks began to appear in the tough facades of the figures. The standing one was the first to break free, shell falling to the ground. When it did, the man staggered and leaned against the wall, coughing to free his lungs from dust but still keeping a smile on his face.

The other was ultimately more violent. When the plates of rock fell, they were smoking faintly, and the man beneath was panicking, clawing the rest off of him. Finally, it fell away from his face, and he gasped for breath, simply laying on the floor.

He blinked his eyes open after a moment to see the other leaning on the wall, and his breath caught in his chest. Finding that he was able to move, he did so, trying to push himself away. When he did so, his hand brushed against the rubble on the floor, and he froze, knowing exactly who had caused these other people to die.

As if noticing him for the first time, the smiling man glanced over, smile fading for only a moment. "That's unexpected," he murmured, leaving his perch on the wall. He seemed much steadier as he kneeled down beside the terrified man. "Tell me, detective, did you ever believe in a higher purpose for yourself?"

Shaking a bit, the detective just stared up at him, flinching when the other put a hand on his face.

"Just a shame," he added, "that you'll never find out what makes you special."

The detective jerked his head away and struggled to stand. "W-what did you do, Barlow?"

Barlow let him find his footing and stood with him, tilting his head a bit. "Please. Haven't you seen the news lately?"

Seemingly in a cold sweat, the detective tried to catch his breath and didn't respond, simply staring at the criminal before him.

Barlow nodded once. "I'm going to kill you, you know that?"

"...yeah." The detective said in response, his hands clenching into fists. "Yeah, I know."

"You expect to fight me? I've been trained to wield my new powers, and you-"

The criminal, for all his monologuing, didn't get very far, as the detective just hauled off at punched him in the face. Barlow was somehow not expecting this and dropped to the floor, stunned for a moment, long enough for the detective to step forward, kicking him in the head once, twice, several more times until the criminal ceased to move.

Still trembling, the detective took several deep breathes as the wind outside began to howl. Finally, it evened out, and he looked down at his enemy. "What did I do?" he whispered to himself.

He crouched down, checking for a pulse and breathing a sigh of relief when he found one. Steady and slow, while the detective's heart raced.

He backed up a few steps, pulling out his phone and hitting the speed dial.

Two rings, and someone picked up, voice sleepy and fragmented by the bad reception. "Ugh. Highcliff."

"It's Temp."

"Temp?" There was a shuffle and tired groan. "What… why're you calling, man?"

"W-working that smuggling case. Caught up with Barlow."

"Wait, seriously? Did you go after him?"

"Yeah."

"Why the hell didn't you call me?"

"Sorry."

"Did you go alone? You could've died!"

"Y-yeah. Sorry."

There was a pause as her partner caught onto the note in his voice. "Temp, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"No. No, I think I'm fine." The detective glanced down at where Barlow lay, unconscious and bleeding. "Barlow isn't. He's gonna need an ambulance."

"Shit. Okay, where are you?"

"Cabin out in Reynold's Forest. It's the only one the road goes to."

"Okay. I'll send someone. What about the buyers?"

Temp felt his throat close up in disgust at the scene at his feet.

"Temp?"

"Sorry. Not here."

"Damn. Well, that's too bad. You're sure you're okay?"

"Always am. Let me know when you're close." Then, he hung up, staring down at Barlow, the shifting glow fading from his eyes.

 **Hey everybody. Quick author's note here. Thanks for reading. I've written fanfiction before but I got a new computer and can't remember my password to my old account, so here it is. R &R is always appreciated. It's getting to be summer so there will probably be consistent updates then. Also, canon characters will be introduced in the coming chapters, but it won't center around them. This mostly just takes place in the AoS universe, so there will be less interaction with the main characters of the show. Hope no one minds too much. Thanks again. ~nahmanjayden**


	2. Chapter 2

Ch 2: Stripes

An ambulance and several police cars arrived soon enough at the scene. Temp greeted them at the door and let them in. Inside the cabin, Barlow lay handcuffed to a radiator, and his face was bloodied and swollen. The ambulance took him away soon enough, but Temp didn't miss the hostile look in his eyes as he was wheeled away.

Soon after, his partner arrived, slamming the door shut behind her as she ran up. She clearly hadn't believed that Temp was just fine.

She slowed when she saw her partner leaning against the railing of the cabin, staring out into space as the world moved around him.

"Hey," she greeted, watching as his eyes met hers. There was a slight delay, like his gaze lagged.

"Hey."

"Wanna tell me what happened?" she asked, moving to lean beside him.

Temp raised a shoulder. "I found out that Barlow would be meeting with some buyers out here."

"How?"

"Anonymous. It was suspicious, but I had to check it out. You know that."

"Yeah, I know. Then?"

"I got here. Waited around. Both parties got here, and I waited for the deal to take place before revealing myself, but… something went wrong." Temp frowned, rubbing his bruised hand. "He was smuggling these weird crystal things. When he saw me, he… took one out and smashed it. I couldn't stop him."

"Okay, and?"

"And I don't remember. I woke up and it was only us there. So I…" he paused again, not wanting to lie about what was a clearly unnecessary action. "...subdued Barlow and waited around."

Detective Highcliff stared at him for a moment, then sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You did a good job, Temp. I just wish-" She broke off her words with a hiss of pain, jerking her hand away. "Shit! You're burning up."

"What? Really?"

"Yeah. You sick?" She frowned, worry lining her face.

"I don't-"

"Follow my hand." His partner held up two fingers, moving them from right to left in front of his face, seeing again how his vision lagged. Then, she held her hand up to his forehead, ignoring his comment- "What are you, my mom?"- and feeling exactly how hot he was. "Jesus, kid. I'm taking you home."

"Casey," he muttered in protest as she grabbed his sleeve and started tugging him back to the car.

"No. There's clearly something wrong, so we'll deal with this tomorrow."

"But my car-"

"You can get that tomorrow, too. No one's gonna steal it out here."

Temp relented, allowing his partner to drag him over to her car, his nervous tension not allowing him to fully relax now that the ordeal was over.

* * *

The ambulance rumbled down the street in the outskirts of the town of Flicker. The driver chatted with his colleague up front while a paramedic attended to the patient in the back. There was a partition between the back and the front, but there was a screen so they could all address each other.

"The hell happened to that guy?" the driver wondered out loud, glancing in his mirror.

"They said he's a suspect in… something," his friend said, yawning tiredly from the passenger's seat.

"That explains the handcuffs," the paramedic remarked, making sure that the criminal had no broken ribs. He seemed to be either unconscious or sleeping soundly.

This was short lived. Barlow's eyes blinked open, and he regarded the man that attended to him. _...well. I suppose he's as good a trial as any._

The paramedic knew something was wrong when his patient began shaking. Worried that he was convulsing, he leaned forward to check the criminal's eyes, only to see that they were already open and staring at him. "What the-"

From the front of the ambulance, the two heard a scream, and a tearing noise that abruptly cut it off.

Had anyone been standing along the road, watching as the ambulance drove by, they would have seen it swerve and topple, rolling several times before coming to a stop in a ditch. They would have seen it sit still in a smoking heap for a moment, before there was a screeching noise of metal as the side of the vehicle was torn open. They would have seen a figure limp out, a hollow smile filled with teeth glinting in the pale lights of the streetlamps. They would have seen him move away into the dark as if embracing it, leaving those he killed behind.

But there was nobody there.

* * *

"Thanks, Casey," Temp said as she pulled the car up in front of his apartment building. Most of the lights were off, save for on the first floor. The old lady always kept the lights on. "I'm feeling a lot better."

"Uh huh." Still giving him the side eye, she unlocked the doors for him and watched him get out. But before he could close the door, she raised her hand for him to wait. "Call me if you decide you can't come to work tomorrow."

"I'm not gonna avoid this-"

"If you still don't feel good."

Temp tried for a smile, fingers drumming against the door. "I will. Goodnight."

Through the front door, up the stairs, into his apartment, Temp finally felt safe enough to breathe easily. He locked the door behind him then slumped against it, thinking over what happened to him.

 _What was he saying about powers? What was that crystal? How did those other people die? Why am I alive, and why is Barlow?_

 _...I can't keep thinking like this._ Temp forced himself to stand, coughing a bit into his sleeve. His clothes smelled like dust and ash, so he moved to the bathroom, shrugging off his jacket and tugging his shirt over his head.

He froze in front of the mirror, his heart stopping for just a moment. His skin was marked with dark stripes and spirals, across his chest and arms, down to his hands and up his neck. Turning around, he saw that they were on his back, too.

 _What the hell is this?!_ Not really thinking very straight, he scrubbed and scratched at his arm, thinking that they were maybe streaks of dirt or dust, but they didn't come off. If anything, as he panicked, they seemed to glow a faint orange, like flames. Glancing in the mirror once more, he saw his own face, a few streaks in the dust under his eyes, piercing and shining in the dark.

* * *

In a top secret location, there was a building, low and made of bricks and wood. It was a dive bar, somewhere integrity went to die. Below that was an tall elevator, and below that was a sprawling complex of halls and corridors, labs and offices, filled with dangerous people, even so late at night.

In the complex was an office, one with a moderate desk and an axe on the wall. In the office was a large screen which completely covered a wall. On the screen was a map, one spotted with pulsing dots of light.

Had anyone been around, they would have seen two new dots appear, somewhere in Washington near the Canadian border. They would have seen one orange and one white, each distinct in the impression it left.

But there was nobody there.

 **Another author's note. Hopefully I'll cover everything in this one and not have to do this every chapter because I keep forgetting stuff.**

 **Okay, 1) I try to stay away from graphic descriptions of violence, gore, etc. It will be kept at a minimum.**

 **2) If anyone has questions, I try to write two or three chapters ahead before publishing so they might take a while to address.**

 **3) What exactly Barlow's power is may not be explained clearly in the coming chapters, so I'll make sure to clarify once he uses it a bit more. This goes for Temp as well.**

 **4) Feedback is always welcome. If I end up thinking this story is actually decent, I can make another, focusing either on the present OCs interacting with the canon characters, or completely focusing on OCs. This decision is based on, you guessed it, feedback, so keep it in mind as you read and feel free to tell me what you think! ~nahmanjayden**


	3. Chapter 3

Ch 3: Spiral Away

The ringing of a phone nearby jolted Temp to full awareness. The couch had made his neck ache, and for just a moment, the disorientation was enough to make him forget about the previous night's events.

He grabbed the phone off the receiver, seeing Casey's number on the display. "Hey."

"You gotta get down here, Temp."

Rubbing his neck, he glanced at the clock, noting the time. Too early for his partner to be badgering him about being late. "What? Why?"

"Trent Barlow never made it to the hospital."

Alarmed, he sat up, an inkling of the past making its way into his tired mind. "He escaped."

"Yeah, and left three bodies in his wake. Well, what's left of them."

Throat suddenly dry, he stood, turning on a nearby lamp. "I'll be there in ten."

"Feeling okay?"

"Terrible, actually."

"So I was right."

"Rub it in my face later, Casey. Now, I'll be there in fifteen."

Sun was just starting to creep over the trees. Pausing for breath, Barlow leaned against a pine so that he could regain his bearing.

He figured that he was a decent distance away from the city- thanks to what he could now do, he hadn't began to feel fatigue until just then. They were right. These powers aren't half bad.

The criminal rubbed his jaw, feeling along its lower line. Probably fractured. Nose definitely broken. Would've had a concussion if I hadn't changed. Stupid detective.

Wincing a bit, he continued his trek, finding the dirt turn to asphalt as he found himself on a road once more, this one secluded and edged by forest. Guess I'll just have to deal with him later.

He let his thoughts wander as he walked, back to the events leading up to that instant he became something new.

"I'm sorry, Trent."

"...what do you mean, 'you're sorry'?"

"Look, I can't let just anyone into the program. I've no idea if the crystals would even work on you, the marker in your DNA isn't very prominent. It could kill-"

"But I don't care about that! Just let me do this!"

"Don't you have a family? Someone you need to be there for-"

"Someone I need to protect? Sure. And this will help, if you'd just-"

"Trent, I said no. Now, I don't want to see you around here again. This time, the door stays closed."

A shake of his head, Barlow's eyes focused on lights he saw ahead, at a bend in the road. A motel. The blinking lights read 'Delilah's Cove', and they were red fading to blue.

The receptionist was sleeping, resting her head against the hard oak counter. She seemed peaceful. Trent, a big believer in finding inner peace, was almost sorry to wake her with a gentle ring of the bell that rested beside her head.

She blinked sleepily and looked up at him, eyes widening immediately at the state he was in. "Oh my God-"

"I was in an accident," Trent explained, voice thick and cracking with pain. "My car, a couple miles down…"

The girl stood and began to make her way around the counter. "A-are you okay?" she asked with a shaking voice.

"I'll be fine. I called a friend, they should be here to help me tomorrow. But I need a room until then."

"...shouldn't we call the police?"

"No!" Trent shook his head, trying his best to seem innocent. "Please, they'll, they'll just hold me up. I'm on my way to see my kids, they really need me."

"Oh." The girl frowned, all sympathy for the poor victim. "What's wrong?"

"Their mom's just, just died." Barlow let his voice crack, and for just a moment, the man he once was showed his colors. "I'm supposed to meet them, but her brother's gonna meet me here. If I have a crash on my record it'll just stop my progress. They're over in Canada."

"Ah, I see." She nodded, and slowly sat back down. "Well, then, of course you can have a room. I'll just need a name."

Trent Barlow smiled.

Temp had to swing by the precinct to get his car, which one of the officers had brought home for him. After thanking him profusely, he found himself at the crime scene.

The ambulance lights still flickered faintly. Spotlights were set up all around, and investigators carefully moved their way through broken glass shards and bits of kicked up cement.

Casey was by the ambulance. "What the hell happened?" Temp asked in a gravelly voice as he approached, waving his hand at the overall scene.

"I'll be honest, nobody's got a clue," Casey replied, gesturing for her partner to follow her around the other side of the vehicle. "Think our boy's got superpowers?"

Temp blinked at what might have been a completely astute prediction. Casey tended to downplay her intelligence in favor of toughness, but he knew better in that situation. "Didn't think so. Why…"

He trailed off when he saw the wreck Barlow had caused. "...Jesus."

"You see what I mean?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Temp narrowed his eyes and peered inside, recoiling immediately. "What did he do to them?"

"Don't know." Casey seemed frustrated. She didn't like not knowing things.

"When did this happen?"

"A few hours ago. Some guy walking his dog found the wreck around four."

For only a moment, Temp stuck around, observing not the carnage inside the vehicle, but the hole in the side. "Look."

Casey nodded. "Perfectly round. Didn't happen in the crash."

Temp rubbed the back of his neck and stepped away from the scene, Casey following suit. "He escaped almost right after we got him. He's still injured. Did you wake Delores up too?"

"I expect she's already up."

"Get her to check if there's any car thefts in the area. If not, he couldn't have gotten far."

"Already have people sweeping the woods, don't worry."

They approached a guardrail and Temp looked across, out into the woods. "Any residential housing around here?"

"Not for a while, why?"

"Evacuation." Temp sighed, which caused him to cough a bit before he continued. "This guy, he's, he's something we haven't dealt with before."

"But you got him," Casey pointed out.

"...yeah. Yeah, I did." He was silent for a minute more, worry clouding his features. "What's his motive?"

"For escaping?"

"For everything. Everything that's happened has seemed almost…" Temp trailed off, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Never mind. Has CSU been through yet?"

"No. Think we're good here?"

"Yeah, they can go ahead. See you back at the station." Temp walked off while Casey went over to the CSU van parked nearby.

He got in his car and locked the doors, just sitting there for a moment. Temp worried for himself, sure, and whatever Barlow had done to him, but resolved that, at that moment, the job was more important than letting himself sulk. There was only one other person who should know, on the off chance that something happened to him during the case and he wouldn't be able to tell her after.

With a rumble, the car started, and ventured back down the brightening road. The sun made the car warm but not uncomfortably so. At any other time, it would have been the perfect start to the day.

But Temp knew different.

The glass on the table shuddered. It housed water to half capacity, but now, the water had what appeared to be a hole in the middle, as if someone dropped in a clear marble made of unstable matter. It roiled and shook violently inside, but Barlow didn't let it get out of control, as it had in the ambulance.

Shuddering slightly at the effort, he outstretched his hand and formed a fist. The action was pointless, but seemed to help him concentrate, and the void inside the water died out.

The criminal sat back on the bed, breathing a bit heavily, triumphant in his growing mastery of his powers. Glancing over at the wavy-glass mirror, he smiled at the rising sun.

And then, he slept.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch 4 Into the Dark

"You look like someone who could use some coffee, officer."

Temp glanced up at the waitress, a faint smile on his face. "You read my mind," he assented, not bothering to correct her on rank. He had only made detective earlier that year anyway. He couldn't expect most people in the small town to know.

Once she had departed in search of the coffee, he pulled out his phone and glanced at the time. Just after six in the morning. Devon better get here soon or I'm gonna get an earful from Casey.

And so she did, stepping as the bell chimed above the door to the diner. She stared around until her tired eyes found her brother. When she slouched into the booth, she could only glare for a moment, her chin resting on her fists.

Temp cleared his throat. "Woke you up, huh?"

"I've got a final tomorrow," she grumbled. "Graduate in a week. Tell me this is important, at least."

He scratched the back of his neck, pulling the collar of his shirt up. "Uh, yeah. Kind of."

But Devon wasn't stupid, and she just sighed, signaling to the waitress for coffee as well. "Well, spill."

The detective put his phone away and leaned forward. "What I'm gonna say, you can't tell anyone else."

Devon scowled at him. "You look like shit."

"I do?"

"You look sick."

"I'm not, that's not the-"

"Got something bad?"

"Devon, I'm not sick!" Contrary to his words, he coughed roughly into his sleeve after raising his voice. Devon watched him a moment as the fit ended, eyes narrowed, then slid his glass of water closer. Temp took a few steadying breaths, then swallowed down some of the water. "Thanks. Okay, I'm sick. That's not what this is about."

She huffed in response, crossing her arms on the table. "A case, then?"

"Yeah. It's about a case."

"I won't tell."

"Good. There's a man who escaped from police custody-"

"Trent Barlow."

"...how did-"

"Police scanner."

"Right. What did you hear?"

Devon twirled a strand of hair between her fingers, thinking. "Drug smuggler, right? Killed three people and escaped."

"That's all?"

"Yeah. Why, is there more?"

The waitress brought the coffee, casting a little smile at Devon in greeting before moving away to the not-so-crowded other tables.

Temp cleared his throat again. "He's got powers, Dev."

She blinked. "What, he's a super villain? Around here?"

"Yeah."

"Well, have we heard of him?"

"No. He's new. Just got his powers yesterday."

"Really." Devon nodded a few times, picking up her coffee. She drank it black. Anything with less caffeine didn't seem to help. "How do you know?"

As if to distract himself, Temp grabbed three sugars from the holder and set to emptying them in his drink.

"Temp."

He glanced up. "I was there. Give me a second."

"You were?" she asked incredulously, just as he took a drink.

He gave her a half-hearted glare and lowered his voice. "Yeah. That's why I needed to talk to you."

Her eyes searched his for a moment. Something about her brother had seemed different. She thought that it was maybe because he was sick that his eyes seemed alight. She knew that could happen if someone has a high fever. But once she paid a bit more attention and the sleep was thrown from her brain, she could see bright orange shifting in his avoiding gaze. "...you have them too."

He nodded, turning the coffee cup in his hands. "Maybe. Figured I should tell you."

Devon frowned. "Why? I mean, thanks and all, but why? Isn't there some super rule that you're supposed to keep that quiet?"

Temp shrugged. "Yeah. Sure seems to have helped them in the past, huh? It's not like I'm gonna run my mouth to everyone in town, and you ought to know. Just you. Casey, in the future."

She nodded a few times, turning this over in her mind. "Right. You said 'maybe'."

"Yeah, I haven't done anything particularly, you know, super."

"Then why do you think?"

He sighed, glancing around the diner before rolling up his sleeve. His sister's eyes widened at the sight of the marks. So visible now in the light, the stripes and spirals didn't look so much like tattoos. They were more like old scars, grooves in the skin coated in deep blue ink. She recoiled a bit, and Temp quickly rolled down his sleeve. "That's why."

"Shit," she breathed. She downed the rest of her coffee, and her brother did the same.

They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the cafe. More people began to file out, and few people filed in with the sweet morning air, probably due to the cold wind that came with it. Devon recognized a few of them. Jonathan from the convenience store. Cindy from school. Mrs. Mathers from the bookstore. No more normal days, I guess.

"Please don't tell anyone," Temp murmured.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He nodded a few times, then looked at his phone. "I should go. Casey's gonna be mad if I don't."

"Yeah." She watched as her brother stood. He seemed a bit unsteady, so she stood too, pulling him toward her and hugging him tight. This was difficult. He was older, a good bit taller, but he didn't seem to mind. He obviously needed it.

"We're gonna talk more tonight," she said. "I'll come over."

He nodded, then pulled away. "Cool." Then, he tried for a smile. "Don't raid my fridge if you get there first."

"Fine," she called after him. "I'll only do it after you get back."

Once he was gone, however, the smile faded from her face.

"You're looking a lot better," the girl behind the counter commented cheerfully as Barlow appeared in the stairway.

He nodded and smiled. "Thanks. I'll be setting out now."

"Okay, great, just sign out here…" She pulled out the guest book, flipping through until she found the right page. "That'll be fifty six dollars, but we can put it to charge if you want."

"No, that's fine." He approached the desk and dug through his pockets, searching for his wallet and hoping he hadn't dropped it. While he did so, the girl hummed, turning away and messing with the dial on the radio.

He finally got it out, retrieved the cash, and set it on the counter as he signed his pseudonym.

The girl counted the money out, thanked him for it. "Also," she said a bit shyly, "Sorry about your loss."

"My loss."

"Your wife…?"

"Oh." He cracked a sad smile. "We were separated anyway."

As they talked, the static turned to clarity, and the local news station began to spew a breaking story. One about a fugitive on the run, one responsible for the deaths of three people. He was injured, with a black eye and possibly cuts and scratches.

The radio, voice low and urgent, described this monster. He was tall. Short blond hair. Brown eyes. A bit of a beard. Scar below his right eye. Stocky build. As most monsters were, he could be anyone. Be careful. Stay safe.

The conversation fell silent as the story went on. The girl's pleasant demeanor faded like mist had in that morning's sun. Barlow seemed to pick it up with the faint flash of teeth.

The girl's eyes watered but refused to cry as she held his gaze.

Have a nice day, the radio said.

"Where've you been?" Casey asked without looking up, thoroughly engrossed in her work.

Temp hovered near her desk, peering over her shoulder while the precinct was abuzz around them. "What're you looking at?"

Well aware that he had avoided her question, Casey frowned but let it slide. "Figured I'd take a look through our files on Barlow. I noticed they're… sparse."

"How sparse?" Temp pulled up a chair so that he could see as she flipped through the papers.

"We've got the bare bones of information on this guy. Age, height, weight, etc. But we have very little history on him. Where he lived before here. Family. Associates, beyond his smuggling buddies. I don't even have a place of birth."

Temp nodded, clearing his throat. "I see."

"Could get the feds involved. They ought to have more on him…" she trailed off when she finally looked up at her partner and saw the look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"...Is that the most important thing right now? I mean, it's a local manhunt right now, shouldn't we focus on that, not retracing his steps?"

"You don't think this can help?"

"It could. Maybe put it on the backburner."

Casey scowled but let the files flutter shut. "So says you, Sherlock. Just don't forget about this." The chair squeaked a bit as she slowly spun to face him. "You never answered my question."

"I...wanted to stop and say hi to Devon," he explained, doing his best to twist the truth in his favor. "I always worry about her when a big case comes through town, especially when someone as dangerous as Barlow is still out there."

Casey's gaze softened a bit and she nodded. "That's understandable, Temp. But you gotta see this from my perspective."

"How so?"

"Well, who was the last one to piss off Barlow? You were, when you arrested him."

"...you think he might come after me?"

His partner slowly shook her head. "Not now, no. He's on the run as of now, probably making a break for the border. But once he feels safe, or if you keep pursuing him, I can say that yeah, he's gonna want payback."

Temp clenched his jaw, thinking this over with no small amount of worry. Then, he looked away. "This guy's a killer. I can't be worried for myself right now."

"But, Temp-"

He was already standing once more, straightening his jacket and not meeting her gaze. "I think I'll go talk to his smuggling buddies. They might know more than they've been saying."

"And you think they'll tell you now? Why?"

"Maybe they wanna distance themselves from a murderer. I dunno, Casey, but it's better than nothing."

"...fine, but I'm coming with you this time. Give me a sec to get my coat.

 **Hey, sorry for the delay. I'll be going to college soon, so the prep for that has been hell. However, I hope to have more time soon to work on this consistently.**


	5. Chapter 5

Ch 5 To Think Oneself Immortal

The Castle was far from empty when Temp and Casey arrived. Even so early in the day as it was, the bar was alive, with anyone from lowlives to insomniacs trying to wash away their sleepless nights and hazy mornings.

"This' the usual hangout of Davis Moreaux, alleged employer of Barlow," Casey had explained on the way. "'Course, nothing ever stuck, which was why we were going after Barlow in the first place. When we go in, we gotta be careful. He's usually got people watching his back."

The chime of a small bell when Casey opened the door was drowned out by the raucous noise inside. Loud music came from the speakers, a genre she couldn't quite put her finger on. Arguments and stories alike were acted out in booming shouts. Only those few who sat in the back at the booths were quiet, glaring out at the rest of the bar's patrons while trying to find some peace in their drinks.

Davis Moreaux was at the bar, not nursing a drink but in deep conversation with a woman who was. Though her words were slurred to the point of being unrecognizable, her expression was intense and serious. The smuggler seemed to be humoring her, nodding along with whatever cause she was bringing to his attention.

The woman broke off her words when Casey appeared, standing a bit away from the bar and simply studying the strange pair. Apparently not enjoying the attention, she murmured a brief farewell and vacated the seat, stumbling over to one of the offensively loud tables once more.

Casey raised an eyebrow at this, then turned to Davis, who narrowed his eyes at her approach. "I gotta say, Moreaux, I'm a little surprised you let your employees be so out of it while talking business."

The smuggler shrugged one shoulder, small smile playing across his lips. "'Fraid I don't know what you mean, officer."

"That'd be detective."

"Oh, my mistake." He knew very well who Casey was. She had interrogated him several times in the past, making it very clear what she thought of his perpetual smile and placating words.

"If you wanna keep this talk hypothetical, sure. You're not the big fish anymore."

"Is that so?" Davis tilted his head, then swept an arm toward the stool across from him, indicating that she should sit. "I'd love to hear all about it."

Hesitating only a moment, she sat down, noticing that Temp was no longer right behind her. Instead, he had shuffled away to a nearby wall, which he leaned against, as if not observing every move Davis made.

"I'm all ears," Davis added, noticing her eyes drift away.

"You don't tend to deal in murder, Moreaux. I know that."

At this, his eyes narrowed momentarily in offense, but let her continue.

"One of your lapdogs got off his leash. Trent Barlow killed three people last night."

"...you never could prove he worked for me," the smuggler said after a moment, leaning against the bar and seeming to actually consider her words.

"I know. Once again, hypothetically, someone not inclined to violence probably wouldn't want a murderer working under him, right?"

Davis hummed at this, motioning to the bartender for a drink. "Hypothetically, I'm not exactly nonviolent, darlin'. But you're right. Killing would just bring unneeded heat on the organization. Whaddaya wanna know?"

"Anywhere Barlow might hide out. Any family he might go to. Let me know what you know, and we keep you out of the reports."

Davis thought it over for a moment, accepting the drink from the bartender and taking a swig. "...fine. I've known Trent a while, so you better keep your promise."

Temp remained quiet as he watched, but his phone buzzed in his pocket. When he glanced at the screen, he saw that it was Delores, the head receptionist for the police department.

He gave his partner a brief wave before ducking out of the bar to find somewhere quieter to take the call.

Casey nodded back, then leaned in as Davis began to talk in a lower voice.

"Far as I know, Trent didn't really get out much, so I dunno where he would hide out or anything like that. Chances of finding any family are slim, too. He had a wife and two kids, I know that much, but they died a while back."

"Died? How?"

"No clue. I just know that Trent had been actin' weird, just before they died. He'd never taken any interest in the business I, ah, allegedly run, but he called me out of the blue one day, asking around about getting a job."

Casey nodded at this, encouraging him. "Do you know where he lived before Flicker?"

"Yeah, uh, Rewind. It's just over the border, I'd say. Real close."

With this, Casey too smiled, standing and fishing around in her coat. "Thanks for the cooperation, Moreaux. And, please, if you remember anything else…" She slid a business card his way, one with a name and phone number on it, though she knew he'd never use it.

"I'll do that," he said through his teeth, making no move to actually take the slip of paper. "If he really did kill someone, you better keep your promise, lady. Don't want the bastard knocking on my door."

Casey didn't deem this worthy of any response, instead quickly vacating the bar, just in case Davis changed his mind and set his people out to follow her. She had seen them just fine, standing almost statue-like near the rear exits. One openly watched her as she pushed the front doors open, but made no move against her.

Temp was waiting for her, glancing from the bar's entrance to her. "Got anything?"

"Maybe. What was the call about?"

"Barlow's killed again. Crime scene's in the woods. Delilah's Cove." Temp's face seemed tired and drawn as they made their way to the car. The day was heating up as the sun rose higher in the piercing blue sky.

"That's north, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Couple miles from the first scene."

Casey sighed at this. She knew that the killer was making his way toward the border, and that once he was in Canada, things would get a lot more complicated for everyone. "The rate he's moving, we've got… less than two days to get this guy. Even less if he gets a car."

They stopped by the car, and Casey was surprised that Temp didn't try to lay claim to the driver's seat, instead moving almost meekly to the passenger's side. "You alright?"

"Told ya, Casey. Just sick." Temp scowled to himself; his hands shook slightly as he opened the car door. He knew that this was due to whatever had happened to him. _Why do superpowers have to make you feel like shit?_

Regret was an uncommon feeling, one that Trent Barlow hadn't felt in a long time. But as he continued his trek, and the terrain went from nearly flat to rocky, he couldn't help the pang of guilt in his gut.

 _Idiot,_ he thought, trying to force it back. _She was just some stupid girl, trying to bring you down. Couldn't let her, simple as that._

But he knew very well why he felt the way he did, and the guilt remained.

It didn't take Barlow long to reach a road. Quite secluded, no street signs in sight. Though the great trees provided some shade, the asphalt radiated heat.

It was there he lay in wait. More accurately, he stood, arm outstretched to catch some kind passerby's attention.

Inevitably, he did. An older man, driving a beat-up truck with a bad muffled. He pulled up, silently shoving the door open for the hitchhiker. Barlow smiled as he got in. This man had obviously done this kind of thing before.

"Where you headed?" the older man rumbled, adjusting the volume on the radio to lower it.

"North," Barlow said simply.

"That's fine."

"I can pitch in for gas…"

He was cut off when the old man just grumbled, waving away the offer of money as they set out.

Barlow just shrugged, appreciating the silence, and appreciating the silent radio even more.

* * *

After the first scene, Temp had hoped that he would never see anything so gruesome again. People torn apart, as though blasted to pieces. Shreds indistinguishable as human. _Far too much blood_ , he had thought, not truly comprehending the sight before him. _Surely there isn't that much._

And yet, there he was, peering over a counter at what was left of the clerk.

She had been discovered by her manager, who had arrived to her shift from her. She'd been working all night, he explained in shivering tones. He wondered if he should have just let her leave early. Young girl like her, he went on, gaze trailing off as he gazed out at the pines. No good reason to make her be out here alone.

"She must've recognized him," Casey said, shaking Temp out of his trance. He turned away from the bloody sight to see his partner studying the guestbook, a gloved hand tracing along the last entry. "He put his name down as Jason Walker. Pseudonyms. Smart. I'm gonna go check out his room."

Temp nodded slowly, then swallowed. "I need some air."

"Go get it," she allowed, moving past him, recognizing that he was new to seeing such things.

The young detective vacated the building quickly, trying to appear normal to those who watched as he made his way behind the building. There, he stopped, taking several deep breaths and slumping against the wall, eyes squeezed shut.

The town of Flicker was a quiet one. _People die from old age here_ , Temp thought, mind in a whirl. _They aren't torn apart. They aren't turned to stone. They just aren't._

A heat built behind his eyes, and Temp knew that the spirals on his skin were flickering and shifting in his panic. He could feel it. His clothes smoldered slightly as he tried to recover.

It took a few moments, but he managed to get his act back together, the heat dimming to a dull roar in the back of his mind.

And so he stood up straight, wincing and coughing briefly at the pain before returning to his job.

* * *

A figure sat crouched in a darkened room. Curtains had been pulled shut, not allowing any new daylight in.

In the figure's hands, a small radio crackled to life, relaying the murder of a young girl by the edge of town. Barlow was drawing ever closer to the border, ever closer to freedom.

The figure set the radio down gently, angered breath coming in short bursts. A heat was building in their heart.

So, they held up a hand, a clenched fist, and the darkened room was briefly illuminated in brilliant light. It surrounded the figure's hand, which shook with barely restrained rage.

In the flash of light, one could see a bulletin board. One that had a map of the surrounding area, one that had pictures tacked to it with clear pins. Pictures of Barlow. Pictures of Davis Moreaux. Pictures of the two detectives on the case, Highcliff and Monteverde.

Then, the light flickered and died, and the figure was left to the dark.

 **I've recognized a formatting issue, where there are no breaks for some reason between scene transitions. Sorry about that, I'll be sure to be more careful with my formatting in the future. I hope it didn't detract from the story.**


End file.
